


Memories

by Revenge_Hurts



Series: Stories I Might Never Finish [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Past Lives, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2018-12-26 08:54:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12055542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Revenge_Hurts/pseuds/Revenge_Hurts
Summary: It was during his last year at Hogwarts when it happened, the memories. They had been coming for a while now: visions of friends and places that seemed familiar, but he was sure he'd never seen before. Sudden feelings of anxiety, anger, or more commonly, sorrow, that made no sense in the situation. Or sometimes simply a feeling of deja vu when eating ice cream or watching the sunset. That year, however, they reached their peak. He would get splitting headaches during all hours of the day and his sleep was plagued by relentless dreams of a blond haired boy and a black haired girl. He managed to pass it off as stress from exams and finding a job, but the reality was, something was very wrong with Percy Weasley, and he didn't know what.





	1. Prologue

Prologue

It was during his last year at Hogwarts when it happened, the memories. They had been coming for a while now: visions of friends and places that seemed familiar, but he was sure he’d never seen before. Sudden feelings of anxiety, anger, or more commonly, sorrow, that made no sense in the situation. Or sometimes simply a feeling of deja vu when eating ice cream or watching the sunset. That year, however, they reached their peak. He would get splitting headaches during all hours of the day and his sleep was plagued by relentless dreams of a blond-haired boy and a black haired girl. He managed to pass it off as stress from exams and finding a job, but the reality was, something was very wrong with Percy Weasley, and he didn’t know what.

*Flashbacks*

_____ Age 5 ___________________________________________________

Mrs. Weasley bustled about the busy streets as she navigated through the throngs of people, sweating under the blistering sun. Shifting her son on her hip, she steered her way over to the ice cream stand nearby, thinking a cold treat would be nice for the both of them.

“Come on then, Percy, what do you say to a little ice cream? We did get all the shopping done early, and it’s so very hot outside today.”

“Ice cream, ice cream!” Was the responding cheer from the little toddler. As they made their way to the front of the line, Molly debated with her son on the best flavor to get for them to share. However, this soon proved difficult as Percy could be a very stubborn child when he wanted to, and he decided that right then would be the perfect time to be completely unreasonable.

“How about chocolate, you like chocolate don’t you?” She bartered.

“Blue!” Came the stubborn response, as it had for the past ten minutes of suggestions.

“Blue? Sweetie, I’m not sure if they have any blue ice cream, and anyway, that’s just a color, not a flavor. How about butterscotch instead?”

“Blue!” Was the adamant reply. Wanting to pull her hair out in frustration, Molly Weasley gave in to her son’s demands.

“Alright, when we get to the front you can ask if they have and blue ice cream, but if they don’t you’ll have to settle for chocolate okay?”

“Yay! Blue ice cream!” Percy giggled from where he rested against his mother’s hip. He didn’t know why he had wanted the ice cream so much, only that he had blurry memories of eating blue ice cream and feeling happy, although even in his toddler mind he was quite certain he had never had that specific colored flavor before.

“Hello ma'am, what can I get for you?” Asked the young man behind the counter as they reached the front of the line.

“My son was wondering if you had any-”

“Blue!”

“Yes, blue ice cream?”

“Um, blue you said. We do have one, it’s a new flavor, but I’m not sure if you’ll like it. It’s sea salt, not a common flavor for ice cream. Are you sure you want it?” The confused server responded.

“Yes, please. Anything to get him to stop screaming ‘blue, blue, blue’. It’s driving me crazy.” A slightly frazzled Molly Weasley begged. It was unusual the way her son was acting, he wasn’t normally so demanding about things like this and would never really mind what he was given, so long as he got it in the end. Today, however, he had been acting like a little demon since the moment he saw the ice cream shop, and he hadn’t let up since.

Once they got their ice cream, Molly collapsed heavily into the first table they found. Wasting no time, Percy snatched the spoon a shoveled a huge bite into his mouth. The second the strangely familiar flavor hit his tongue, he was overcome with an immense feeling of loss and despair. His face had started to feel wet, but when he went to wipe it away, his mother noticed the movement.

“Honey, what’s wrong? Did you get hurt? Is it a brain freeze?” As his mother continued to fret over him, Percy thought about the strange feelings that overcame him, and the images of a blonde and a blackette that went along with it.

_____ Age 8 ___________________________________________________

A young Percy Weasley sat in front of the fireplace feeling like he was forgetting something important as he became entranced by the dancing flames. Dancing flames, that means something to me, something important. However, he soon shook himself off as his mother called him for dinner, as what possible reason would he have for the visions of flame that burned through his mind when he slept, and how could he be forgetting something important when he had already finished all his chores the day?

___ Age 11 ____________________________________________________

As the Sorting Hat was placed on his head, Percy Weasley’s nerves were calmed by the thought that, hey I’ve been through much worse than this, which instantly confused him as, no he hadn’t. This was the most important decision that was going to be made for the next seven years of his life, what could possibly have been more nerve-wracking than this? His thoughts were soon interrupted, however, by the sound of a voice in his head.

“Ahh what do we have here,” the hat inquired. “Another Weasley? I’ve sorted quite a few of you in my time. So let’s see shall we, where would you fit best?”

“G-Gryffindor obviously.” Responded Percy having gotten over his shock at a hat who could read minds and his confusion over his strange thought earlier. “It’s where all my family’s been and it’s where I should go too. The house of the brave, the house of the light; the good guys.”

“Hmm, it is not so black and white as that I’m afraid, there is good and bad, light and dark in everything, and in everyone. This is something you, I think, should know well.” The disapproval in the Hat’s voice made Percy frown, but what really caught his attention was the “you should know well” part. Me, how should I know well? What is it talking about?

“What are you talking about? And why aren’t you sorting me? Put me in Gryffindor so I can go.”

“Quite right, I can’t be slacking on my job now can I? Let’s see here, you’re loyal, but not especially so. Hmm, there’s lots of knowledge, and a desire for more, but the desire stems from a want for power and control which is a more Slytherin trait than Ravenclaw. I think that may be the best place for you, especially considering your past.”

“What are you talking about? I’m no snake! Put me in Gryffindor where I belong and stop talking about random things like my past. What past?” Percy was outraged, Slytherins were evil, and it just wasn’t possible he was in any way, shape, or form like them.

“Oh, I see, you haven’t awoken yet. Very well, Gryffindor it is. Just know when the time comes, that you are not alone. You are not the first of your kind I’ve sorted, and I doubt you will be the last. “

“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? Awoken? I’m not asleep, and what are you talking about ‘my kind’ and ‘when the time comes’? STOP TALKING IN RIDDLES!” He was now physically restraining himself from ripping the hat off his head and setting it on fire, which he had a strange urge to do to random objects recently.

“Never you mind now, just remember this for later.” And with that the Sorting Hat shouted out his house for the entire hall to hear, and Percy had no choice but to take the hat off, slam it down on the stool, and stalk over the Gryffindor table, muttering under his breath about “stupid, crazy old hat talking in stupid riddles that make no sense”, and “probably gone senile” all the while.

 

___ Age 16 _______________________________________________

As he was watching the sorting, keeping an eye out for any new Gryffindors he should watch out for as a Prefect, he noticed a flash of blonde hair in the crowd of waiting first-years who had yet to be sorted. Instantly his thoughts were drawn to the blonde boy who kept appearing in his thoughts more and more often recently, always followed by feelings of loss, longing, and sorrow. He had a feeling that if these “memories” were real, the boy would have been someone special to him, someone that meant the world to him, but whom he had lost. The sound of applause from around him brought him back to reality as he quickly blinked away the moisture that had somehow accumulated in his eyes and clapped with the rest of his table as another first-year was sorted into Gryffindor.

*End of Flashbacks*

As he grew older, Percy soon forgot about his strange talk with the Sorting Hat and his weird obsession with fire, however, he could never get the image of the blonde haired boy out of his head, even as the black haired girl’s memory soon became dim. As he started working at the Ministry, and even during the Battle of Hogwarts, he would get random flashes of a smiling face, beaming brighter than the sun, just for him, and he would be overcome with a strange mixture of wistful longing and a sorrowful remembrance of something he couldn’t quite grasp. Not for many a time would he ever understand why the number eight meant so much to him, or why the number thirteen always made him cry.


	2. 1 - Awakening

1  
The Awakening

One . . . two . . . three.  
One . . . two . . . three.  
One . . . two . . . three.

In through the nose, and out through the mouth. Repeat. In through the nose, and out through the mouth.

“-at’s why I really do think . . . are you quite alright?” The Minister stopped in his long, and frankly superfluous, monologue of precisely how Dumbledore was secretly planning to overthrow him, and what they must do to stop him.

“Ah, yes. Quite all right. Just . . . finally realizing the true extent of the corruption.” Upon noticing the attention seemed to have suddenly moved completely to him, A - Percy BS’d a response to what he assumed the Minister was ranting about. This wasn’t a total lie in a way, either. He really was just now noticing how far the corruption went - in the Ministry. He had always known that things weren’t perfect, however, he had, perhaps naively, assumed that it wasn’t terrible, and with a little work and a few shoves in the right direction, things would start to become much better. 

Unfortunately, it went much deeper than just a few pocket-lining workers or backward-thinking lawmakers. It went to the very heart of the Ministry. Anyone in power or who held sway, all the purebloods (especially the Malfoys) who held the highest positions, even the Minister himself, were compromised in some way. Some were dark witches or wizards under the sway of Xe-Voldemort (Xe, who’s Xe? There’s only one Dark Lord and everyone knows his name, even if they dare not speak it), some in fear of the Dark Lord and his power and so deferred to him, some were in denial and looking for scapegoats, some were simply unreasonable hate-filled and prejudiced, and some were just greedy. 

“es, it must be so hard for you to hear this-, “ He tuned back in just in time to see the Minister looked down at him in pity and continue his explanation, now simply specifically to him instead of some unseen audience.

Oh, you have no idea. Listening to you drone on and on makes me want to stab my ears. I can’t take this much longer.

“but hear it you must. For, Dumbledore surely has almost all of the student body and most of the faculty under his control already. Now is the time to fight back - before he gets too strong!” The Minister by this point was red-faced and sweating from the wild gesticulations and a fierce, almost shouting, tone of voice he used to explain the situation.

“Quite right Minister, “ placated Ax-Percy, as he slowly made to get up from his chair. “But, alas, as he has done nothing illegal-”

“YET!”

“Yes, nothing illegal yet, there’s not much we can do. We can’t arrest a man on suspicion alone. You must have solid proof before anything drastic happens.”

As the Minister opened his mouth to no doubt let loose another, extremely long, speech about the dangers of leaving Dumbledore in power and how he must be stopped, Percy quickly stood up from the chair and continued to politely bid goodbye to the Minister as he gathered his things. 

“Unfortunately, like I said sir, at this time there’s not much you can legally do unless you catch him in the act of doing something illegal. I thank you for the wonderful opportunity to learn from you, but I’m afraid I must be getting home now. Have a marvelous evening Minister, goodnight.”

A little flabbergasted at the speed with which the youth suddenly tore out of his office, the Minister could only stare in faint shock as one of his most dedicated underlings all but fled from the room.

It must be because he’s finally, truly come to realize the danger of having Dumbledore in charge of Hogwarts. It must be so hard on the poor boy, he was a student there not too long ago, and all students do, at one point, come to greatly admire their headmaster. This all must just be hitting him pretty hard right now. Oh well, let him have a day or so to sort it out before asking him to partake in the plans to bring Dumbledore DOW-to justice, I mean.

Unbeknownst to him, however, Axe-PERCY, was having a few thoughts of his own on the way out.

What a slimy little piece of work. I almost feel sorry for the guy in a way: he’s obviously not qualified for the job, and Dumbledore obviously is a hundred times more so, so it would seem a little daunting to not only have news spread of the return of one of the worst crime lords (because that’s essentially all Voldemort is - a glorified Mob Boss) coming from someone who’s pretty much your superior in every way except title. Not to mention he’s exceptionally weak minded and that combined with all the dark wizards and witches whispering in his ear is making him go completely mad!

At least the way things are going, I won’t have to work under him for much longer. 

(He didn’t know how soon his wish would come true).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it's so short, most will be, but please enjoy!


	3. Blonde Haired Memories

Percy Weasley all but ran out of the Minister’s office and gave an audible sigh of relief as he slumped against the wall to get his bearings; meetings with Fudge were unbearable, and he half thought this one would never end it went on so long. It was the same thing every week: called in to report on some pointless report or another only to hear an hour long, minimum, rant about the deception of Dumbledore and the lies he was spreading. The guy wasn’t even original! It was exactly the same tedious routine every day. By this point, of course, he could repeat about 90/95% of the speech word for word, verbatim. It was driving him bloody insane! 

To avoid being called back, or running into any of the Minister’s Undersecretaries (those people were actually mental), Percy quickly straightened himself from his quick respite against the wall and turned to hurry through the halls and back to his own office where he could collect his stuff and finally head home (finally!) for some much deserved rest. God knows how much he needed it after putting up with the Minister for this long. It was a surprise he was still as sane as he was, but he was sure he had still lost no a small number of brain cells to this job. 

However, before he reached his wing of the offices he noticed a shock of very ginger hair heading in his direction. ABORT. ABORT. ABORT. ABORT. RUN AWAY. RUN AWAY. (He, of course, realized his father worked in the Ministry when he planned on taking this job, but it was such a big place he didn’t think it’d be much of a problem, what with their vastly different departments of work. Obviously, he forgot that he literally has the worst luck of anyone he’s ever met so, of course, he almost runs into his dad at least once a week. Sometimes twice. Joy.) 

Ducking back against the foot traffic, he quickly turned down the nearest hallway to avoid the confrontation. Unfortunately (or fortunately as he might later look back and remiss), in his haste to escape the awkward meeting, Percy collided head-on with some blonde teen. He assumed it was a teen at least, the kid was small enough (a little over half his, admittedly ridiculously tall, height) and the quiet ‘Oof’ that escaped when they hit each other sounded young enough.

“Ah, sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going, I was in a bit of a hurry.” At this, he paused to look over his shoulder to see the same head of red hair continuing on its path right past him and down the hall. He let out a small sigh, his shoulders sagging in relief. Safe. (He’d have to deal with it at one point, but for now, he wanted to delay it as long as possible). 

After confirming that he was, in fact, in the clear he turned back to whomever he had knocked down to help them up. Looking down at the small body he had crashed into, however, his eyes grew wide and he couldn’t help the sharp inhale that seemed to catch the attention of the boy (and a few onlookers annoyed at the block in traffic). Looking into those familiar eyes, though, Axel could honestly not care less about anyone who was watching. He had found him. He had found him! HE FOUND - 

“Roxas.”

The blonde paused, looking at him with something akin to recognition in his eyes before blinking quickly, as if to clear away a thought, and responding, “I’m sorry, what?”

With that blunt question Percy snapped out of whatever schizophrenic, dissociative episode he was sure he was having (Fantastic. Just wonderful, on top of everything else that’s happening I’m going mental. That’s just perfect. Just what I need.) and realized he recognized the teen he had knocked over. Not Roxas (whoever the bloody hell that was), no this was -

“Malfoy.“

“What?”

“What?”

Now the blonde, Draco, his mind supplied, seemed even more confused. Understandable really, Percy mused, some random guy knocks you over before calling you a name you’ve never heard before while creepily staring, and then just stating your name aloud for no discernable reason and casually moving on. I would be slightly perplexed at the situation too. 

However, the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like he knew the young Malfoy from somewhere. Somewhere that was not Hogwarts or the Ministry or anywhere he even recognized at all. (He had an image in his brain, of sunsets and bell towers, but the only bell tower he knew of was at Hogwarts so it had to be just a dream or something of the sort.) It was strange, this feeling of a simultaneous need to get as far away from the blonde as possible (the kid was a complete prat and so was his entire family, there was no love lost between them) but also to stay close and protect and watch out for this kid he was sure he knew from, from . . . 

Ugh! Percy mentally shook himself off that train of thought before trying to focus. I need a break. I am clearly having a mental breakdown from all those hours spent with Minister Fudge. With a little rest and some coffee, I’ll be fine. Hopefully.

Turning back to the now simply irritated blonde (he had shaken off his bewilderment in favor of the more comfortable and well-worn annoyance), Percy cleared his throat and did his best to move on from the rapidly deteriorating situation that he thought fairly well reflected his, suddenly, rapidly deteriorating mental state. (He made a mental note: he should probably go see someone about that. It’s most likely not a good sign when you think you remember things that never happened.)

“Oh, nothing. Nevermind. Um, sorry for running into you, but I’ve gotta get back to work. Have a nice day or whatever.” And with that oh so eloquent farewell, the red-head walked off, his eyes, unnoticed to even himself, flashing a brilliant green.


	4. The New Job

He blinked at the paper that had been shoved into his hands, then at the back of the quickly retreating intern who had delivered said paper.

A summons. 

He had a summons. 

From one Mr. Cornelius Oswald Fudge. 

Fan freaking tastic. 

Percy was so not in the mood to sit through another one of Fudge’s tediously monotonous lectures about his paranoia. Whatever had happened yesterday (the weird thoughts, headache, seeing Ro-) put him in quite a foul mood today. He was snappy and irritable and just all around exuding an aura of leave me alone or you will meet a very painful end; if he had to try to hold his tongue through another pointless, baseless rambling of some imbecile who had no idea what he was talking about, he was going to kill someone (he’s done it before for less - wait, no - that’s not right).

Crumpling the note in his fist, knuckles turning white from the strain, he marched off down the hallway, glaring at anyone who dared come close. For someone normally so genial and unassuming, the sudden change in personality was a drastic one. One couldn’t expect him to stay the same through an awakening, however (not that anyone recognized it for what it was, so uncommon the event was in modern society).

Mumbling under his breath, “put up with this bull-”, “find a new job”, “terrible pay, terrible hours”, “bloody needy as hell boss”, he neared the door to the Minister’s office. Releasing a long sigh and straightening himself from the slouch he had fallen into, he attempted to calm himself (a**hole or not, he was still Percy’s boss) - it didn’t completely work - and poked his head through the door.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” He questioned stiffly. Manners, be polite. As unsuited for the job as he is, he still does hold the position; he can still crush you in almost every way if he felt the inclination. 

The Minister, who had at this time been shuffling around a stack of papers and worrying at the corner of the front page of some Daily Prophet article, sharply turned his head to look at him. 

“Ah, yes. Right, of course. Come in, come in.” He hastily shoved the documents littering his desk into a haphazardly filled drawer and motioned for Percy to sit. He did so, noting with some appreciation of the implications it would entail, the documents Fudge was so distressed over consisted mainly of tax and funding details for the Ministry.

Having successfully shoved aside any sensitive information, the Minister turned back to look at Percy, “Now then, I called you in here today because I have a special assignment I am going of ask of you. I won’t go into all the logistics at the moment as you have not formally accepted, but what you’ll essentially be doing is acting as a bridge, of sorts, between the Ministry and another, private institution that we have reason to believe may be promoting or being used to promote anti-government propaganda. 

“Your main goal while serving at this institution will be to promote good relations between them and the Ministry; to derail the harmful propaganda we believe is being spread; and to ensure the safety of both the faculty and clients of the institution by reporting anyone or any practice that you see as detrimental to the overall image our fine Ministry is working so hard to provide.

“The institution in question, as you may have guessed based upon our previous conversations concerning the topic: Hogwarts.”

Percy looked at him with such a dry expression that the Minister almost fidgeted in his seat. “You want me to spy on my old high school because you think Dumbledore is trying to unseat you,” he deadpanned. 

“Ah, well, we are simply attempting to mend the gap that has been forming in the past few years in relation to education and to ensure nothing, dare I say it, treasonous is being allowed or encouraged. I am sure you can agree, nurturing the minds of the next generation is one of our most important responsibilities. They will take over for us in not too long, after all,” he started nervously, no doubt thinking of the ramifications he’d have to deal with if word got out that he sent a government-sanctioned spy into a private children’s school. “And it is in no way our intention to imply that we see this institution, or any of its leaders for that matter, as untrustworthy. We simply have received various reports - nothing confirmed as of yet - of, well, let’s just say less than stellar discussions regarding the government and me, in particular, among both the faculty and students.”

“You think they’re trying to raise an army against you, or at least inspire one.”

“Of course not! It is simply a matter of making sure everything is running smoothly, an inspection of sorts, you see. Every establishment has these periodically, it doesn’t mean we think any less of them.

“But, nonetheless, I trust this will not be a problem?” He continued, finally resolute in his questioning.  
There was no point in asking, he already knew the answer. Even if he wanted to, Percy couldn’t say no. He’d lose his career, his reputation, he’d be blacklisted from holding any position of importance ever again; he’d lose everything he’d ever worked toward. The Minister wouldn’t hesitate to do so, either. He couldn’t risk word getting out that he had asked this of him in the first place; he’d ruin Percy’s reputation before he had a chance to spread it around.

He did, however, briefly consider turning him down all the same. He hated politics with a passion, however useful it could be at times, and honestly probably wouldn’t mind getting thrown out all that much. 

He considered the people he’d have to interact with if he went through with the assignment; all the people he was avoiding: his family, old acquaintances that knew him only through his last name. He wasn’t thrilled with the idea of having to deal with all of them again.

There was a reason he was taking this job despite his distaste for it, though. That job wasn’t finished yet and would be much harder to accomplish if he didn’t hold at least some semblance of a position in this corrupt imitation of a government.

He smiled then: a mean, sharp looking thing that was all teeth. “Of course not.”


End file.
